


constant as the northern star

by afteriwake



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper, F/M, Flashbacks, Fluff, Happy Ending, Happy Molly, Light Angst, Loving Marriage, Loving Sherlock, Marriage, Married Couple, Married Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper, POV Molly, POV Molly Hooper, Parenthood, Relationship Problems, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper Fluff, Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper Kissing, Sherlock is a Good Husband, Stargazing, worried Molly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-27
Updated: 2016-05-27
Packaged: 2018-07-10 13:44:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6987451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Molly worries that Sherlock is pulling away from her since he’s been in his head longer than he usually is, but it turns out to be something else entirely.</p>
            </blockquote>





	constant as the northern star

**Author's Note:**

  * For [majesticlolipop](https://archiveofourown.org/users/majesticlolipop/gifts).



> When I asked her what her ideal first date for Sherlock and Molly was on Tumblr, **majesticlolipop** said " _My favourite idea is a case of something and then sherlock just stops in the middle of like a park and looks up at the stars and shows molly and molly says 'they are so beautiful' and they just admire and leave it be and thats it but then like in the future like sherlock calls her his star or something and they name their child Andromeda or something._ " So I totally stole it for a fic idea. Title comes from a different play by William Shakespeare than the one I use at the beginning of the fic (in this case, it's Julius Ceaser, Act 3, Scene 1).

  
_“Doubt though the stars are fire;_  
_Doubt that the sun doth move;_  
_Doubt truth to be a liar;_  
_But never doubt I love.”_  
**Hamlet**   
Act 2, Scene 2  


She rolled over in bed, finding it empty. Again. Her husband had had a habit of lingering even if he was awake for the longest time, but ever since their daughter was born he always seemed to not want to linger. Sometimes, when her mind went to dark places, she wondered if the changes made to her body during pregnancy had turned him off so much he couldn’t stand to look at her anymore.

There were times she wasn’t entirely sure with Sherlock. She _guessed_ , but then he’d get in these moods where he’d get quiet and withdrawn, almost as though he was trapped in his own head, and she would wait patiently for him to reemerge. Usually, then he was loving and affectionate, almost overwhelmingly so. That was how their daughter had come about in the first place; he’d been lost over a case and when he’d come out he’d come on her with a passion that consumed her like a wildfire, and she hadn’t been careful. She had thought he’d be upset but she had been mistaken, and one whirlwind marriage later she was here at Baker Street, usually happier than she had ever been

Usually.

This time of him being in his head had lasted longer than most, and she had wondered if it was something...more. If he was dissatisfied with her. Oh, how she wished they could go back to the start sometimes. She rolled over onto her back and shut her eyes, thinking about the moment she realized he truly cared for her for more than her ability to autopsy bodies and help him solve crimes.

_They had hit a wall in the case, and he had suggested a walk at Hyde Park. It was late at night and an odd request, but truth be told the wall of the morgue were becoming restrictive. She had changed out of her lab coat and into a regular coat against the chill of the evening. There were a few others who had a similar idea, and she had been looking at a lovely flower she had never seen in bloom before when Sherlock had tapped her shoulder. “Look,” he’d said, pointing upward._

_She turned and looked up, her eyes widening. She had never seen the stars quite so brightly before. She normally never looked up at the night sky; she never had a good, clear view, or she always missed all of the interesting astronomical events, but that evening the stars had all looked so radiant and stunning. “They’re so beautiful,” she’d replied._

_He’d told her then how he’d considered them unimportant until the first time he’d encountered Moriarty, when the Carl Powers case reentered his life, and that since them he’d learned more, paid more attention to the stars. She had suggested that they find a bit of grass and sit down and he tell her about what he had learned, and what was supposed to have been a short break to clear their heads became a two hour astronomy lesson, ending with their first kiss, on a patch of grass in Hyde Park, with neither of them caring who in the world had seen it._

Ever since that evening she was always been “his star,” and every time he called her that she felt a warmth bubble up inside of her that would bring the widest smile to her face, one she wasn’t sure she could contain, and she wasn’t even sure she wanted too. And when their daughter was born a year ago, she had been named Andromeda, after the constellation he had been telling her about when they had kissed for the first time.

She had been content, she had, but now she wasn’t sure things were okay. Oh, to just _know_. That would take such a load off of her shoulders. Then she could concentrate on being happy again, on enjoying her time with her husband and daughter and being the best wife and mother she could be. Because she knew as long as she worried she wasn’t being as good at her roles in the family as she could be.

She was brought out of her thoughts by the sound of the door opening and Sherlock coming in, doing a magnificent job of balancing Andromeda on his hip and a breakfast tray in the other hand. She smiled at that. “How on earth are you managing to do that?” she asked, sitting up, forgetting her melancholy thoughts for a moment.

“I had a job as a waiter when I was young,” he said. “It’s a skill you never unlearn.” He came to her bed and set the tray on her lap. There was all her favorites: back bacon, French toast with powdered sugar and strawberries in syrup, orange juice, coffee...there was even a rose in a vase. He set Andromeda on the bed and then sat by Molly’s legs. “You go back to Barts tomorrow. I thought we should celebrate.”

“Celebrate?” she asked, looking a bit perplexed.

He was quiet for a moment. “I’ve absolutely abhorred your replacement,” he said finally, a bit sheepishly. “He’s loud, boorish, and has only a fraction of your talent and skill. It’s made my job infinitely harder. But I haven’t wanted to voice my complaints because I know you’ve enjoyed your time with Andromeda and I haven’t wanted to pressure you to end your maternity leave early to accommodate me. So I’ve been leaving early most times to take the autopsy results to the only other person I trust, who works in Oxford, so I can sit with her and go through them in detail to get what Dr. Hobson can glean through his shoddy work. Dr. Stamford has been aware of it, but his hands were tied. He had me doing it for other DIs as well, not just Lestrade and Donovan.”

“Oh my Lord,” she said, her eyes wide. “What the bloody hell has happened to my department?”

“Nothing you can’t fix,” he said soothingly. “They were trying to limit his hours. Your other, more competent coroners took on as many extra hours as they could. Seeing as how your replacement was the nephew of the head of the pathology department it was a touchy situation. But with you returning tomorrow, you can boot his arse out and things can return to normal.”

“So it had nothing to do with...us?” she asked, feeling so embarrassed.

He gave her a perplexed look, before reaching over for her hand. “Molly, you are the star that guides me in everything I do. I love you more than I can every actually profess. Nothing will ever change that. Never doubt that.”

She relaxed and then motioned for him to lean forward before kissing him softly. “I love you so much, Sherlock.”

“The feeling is entirely mutual, Molly,” he murmured against her lips before kissing her again, a slow, leisurely kiss, before pulling away. “You might want to eat before Andromeda gets any ideas of going for the strawberries.”

Molly laughed. “Oh, I will. She’ll have to learn they’re for Mummy, not her.” She gave her daughter a fond look before beginning to eat. The reason behind him being in his head wasn’t at all what she had expected to hear, and there were problems associated with it, of course, but she was so glad to hear it hadn’t been what she thought it might have been. More glad than Sherlock would ever know. And she knew now that she should never doubt that he loved her more than anything in the world.


End file.
